


And To Dust We Shall Return

by Dark_Knight_HQ



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2020-10-19 06:19:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20652581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Knight_HQ/pseuds/Dark_Knight_HQ
Summary: As the Targaryen dynasty begins to fracture and a cold enemy rises in the far North, the last chance for hope within the Seven Kingdoms rests in a dangerous alliance between the Wolf and the Dragon.





	1. Jon I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in all honesty, I wasn’t completely sure I wanted to publish this quite yet. I’ve never had such a long story plan before and I really don’t want it to crash and burn. But if I don’t do it, this is going to sit in my laptop folder until the end of time and reviews and feedback give me motivation to carry on with writing. So I hope you like this.

Jon I

“Jon!” The young man in question groaned loudly. “Jon! Jon! Wake up, you have to wake up Jon! The royal family is coming to Winterfell!”

Jon finally sat up fully, rubbing his eyes as he looked sleepily at Rickon. “Do you mean today?” He asked in surprise, voice thick with exhaustion.

The little boy’s shoulders sagged slightly. “Well, no, but Father got a letter from the King. It says that him and the Queen his whole army and the dragons and the Prince and Princesses and the Mother of Dragons!” He quickly regained his excited state, bouncing on Jon’s bed. “Why is he coming here? Does he need to speak to Father? Is there going to be a war? Can I ride a dragon? Jon can I _ride a dragon into battle?_”

“Dany’s coming?” Jon questioned immediately, ignoring Rickon’s questions. “And my father?”

Rickon rolled his eyes impatiently. “Yes. Will they let me ride a dragon?”

“No. Daenerys does not allow even the King to ride one of her dragons, and he is as much a Targaryen as she is.” Jon told him flatly, before nudging his shoulder as his face fell. “But, if you’re extra good while she’s here, she might let you help her feed them. Deal?”

Rickon grinned brightly. “Deal!” He hopped off the bed and ran to the door, nearly slamming into Robb as he swung it open. “Robb! Robb, wait! Did you hear about Father’s letter?”

Without warning, Robb swung Rickon into the air and over his shoulder, tickling his sides as the little boy screamed with glee. “No I haven’t, Little Lord. What’s this I hear about feeding dragons and an army? Sansa and Arya won’t shut up about it.” He walked into Jon’s room and deposited a still-squealing Rickon onto the bed next to Jon, who merely rolled his eyes at his cousins.

“There’s no army coming, they’ve just gotten excited.” He explained quickly, as Robb dropped onto the chair next to the bed. “_Apparently,_ my father wrote Lord Stark, declaring that he and his family are coming to Winterfell. I don’t know anything about wars and armies though.” Both men looked at Rickon with raised eyebrows for a moment, before Robb snorted a laugh and slouched further into his chair.

“So the Little Lord’s been lying again, has he?” He slapped Jon’s back with a smile and Jon fought back a small wince. “Off with you now, I need to speak to Jon. Go find Mother, she was looking for you.” They both watched Rickon run off_. No doubt to spread more tales of dragons and battles to whoever would listen to him, _Jon thought before Robb spoke again.

“Are you going to be alright?”

Jon pulled himself out of bed and pulled his clothes from the drawers. “I’ll be fine, Robb. He’ll avoid me anyway, that’s what he’s always done.”

“Don’t say that.” Robb replied with a frown. “He cares about you.”

“No he doesn’t, Daenerys does.” Robb fell silent at his words. “I’m not a fool Robb, I know that Dany lies when she says that Rhaegar asks about me, if he wanted to know how I was he would write me. Not that I want him to.” He added quickly. “I’m not his son, I’m his bastard.”

“No.” His cousin’s voice was firm as he placed a hand on Jon’s arm. “You are no bastard. Rhaegar was married to Lyanna, we all know it – the royal prick is just too much of a coward to admit it. You’re his son like I’m my father’s.”

“You’re a Stark. I’m a Snow.” Jon reminded him. “And I’m grateful to Lord and Lady Stark for taking me in when the King asked them to.”

“You are like my brother Jon. You may not have my name, but you have my blood.” Robb said solemnly – it was strange seeing his face in anything other than a smile. “We stick together – always.”

“Excuse me, my lords.” Both men turned at the sound of a young woman’s voice, as a servant girl stood in the doorway. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but Lord Stark wishes to see both of you down in the hall for breakfast. He says there’s important news for you all to hear.”

As she left, Robb turned to Jon with a smirk. “Somehow I doubt it’s as exciting as a battle or a murder.”

**OoOoO**

“The Hand of the King has been murdered.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Jon had to try with all his might to keep from laughing aloud, and – from the spluttering coming from further down the table – Robb was clearly attempting to do the same. Lady Stark, on the other hand, looked horrified. “Murdered right under the King’s nose… Ned, how do you know?”

“Poison.” Her husband replied darkly. “And a slow-working one at that. Both Mace Tyrell and his wine-taster died three days ago.”

“Father, am I allowed to poison Sansa?”

“Arya, be quiet at once or I’ll have you sent to your room until dinner.” Catelyn said sharply, cutting across Sansa’s retaliations. “Continue, my love.”

Ned smiled slightly at her before carrying on. “King Rhaegar wishes to visit Winterfell on urgent business, he and his family will be here before the month is over.”

“My Lord.” Jon interjected, clearing his throat. “Will the King’s sister be arriving with him?”

“As far as I know, yes. Rhaegar mentioned in his letter she seemed eager to see you.” Eddard hesitated slightly. “We will need to prepare the servants for the possibility of her bringing her dragons – I hear she resents travelling without them.”

“Are they big Father?” “How many are there?” “What are their names?” “Where will they be staying?” Rickon, Bran and Arya soon began bombarding their father with questions about the Targaryen family’s dragons, while Sansa turned to Jon with a grin.

“What is the royal family like?”

“I have only met my father, we did not speak.” Jon answered quickly, eager to avoid questions about the King. “But Elia is said to be a lovely woman, as is her daughter – though Rhaenys is a little spoilt from what I’ve heard. I met Aegon once and he was a good man, if a tad too keen to become king. The King’s brother is.. um..”

“A right royal prick.” Robb finished, smirking as his mother scolded him. “Mother, everyone from here to bloody Volantis knows that.”

“What about the Mother of Dragons?” Bran asked quietly. “I heard they locked her in a tower and only let her out after her dragons grew too big.”

Jon laughed and ruffled the boy’s hair. “I don’t think you should tell the King you heard that, Bran. Daenerys is a… good women.” He said carefully, struggling for the right words as his family looked at him with interest. “She’s not like most of the women round here so don’t go telling her what to do, but she’s a nice girl, you two would both like her I think.” He said, nodding to Arya and Sansa, the latter shooting him a beaming smile.

“I hear she’s the most beautiful woman to ever walk the Earth.” She sighed with obvious envy. “They say she’s made to be a queen and can dance beautifully. I can’t wait to meet her.”

“She’s not going to be queen, stupid. Why would she want to anyway?” Arya snapped, rolling her eyes. “_I heard _that she helps advise the King and he keeps her on his small council, and that she fights like the Targaryen women in the stories Old Nan told us. Is it true?”

“I don’t know about sitting on the small council.” Jon admitted. “But aye, she’s a damn good fighter. Beaten everyone I’ve seen her fight.” He smiled proudly as he remembered his slim little aunt bringing warriors to their knees during his visit to the capital.

“Well, seems like you have quite the woman there, Snow.” Robb announced with a smirk, clapping him on the back and throwing Rickon and Bran over his shoulders, ignoring Lady Stark’s protest. “No need to make the rest of us feel worse.”

Jon spluttered on his wine. “She’s my bloody aunt!” He gasped out as Arya _helpfully_ thumped his back.

“Aye, and we all know how you Targaryens like to keep it in the family.” Robb roared with laughter at the expression of his cousin’s face before running out of the room, the two boys strung over his shoulders screaming with delight.

“I do find it somewhat disturbing that swordplay interests the heir to Winterfell more than the murder of the Hand of the King.” Ned muttered, and Jon once again coughed into his wine glass. “Off with the three of you now, I need to talk to Jon.” He gestured for the three ladies of Winterfell to leave, kissing each daughter on the head as they passed and embracing Catelyn as she followed her children out of the dining hall.

Jon fought back a groan as his uncle sat back in his chair at the head of the table and fixed him with a long look. _First Robb and now Lord Stark – do men in this family have something against leaving me be?_

“Would you like to leave while the royal family is here?”

“What?” Jon asked, shaken from his thoughts. “I’m sorry Lord Stark, I don’t follow.”

“I could tell Rhaegar and the others that I have sent you to visit the Karstarks of Boltons on business as a favour to me.” Ned took a deep breath. “I don’t want to see him either Jon, but I understand that your situation is mayhaps even more complicated than mine and I won’t force you to stay.”

The young man thought for a moment. “Thank you, my lord, you offer is very kind. But I would like to see Princesses Daenerys and Rhaenys and Prince Aegon, they are my family and it would be disrespectful to avoid them when they’ve tried to make me feel welcome. Forgive me asking, but do you know what the King wants?” He asked, watching Ned’s face darken slightly.

“I haven’t a damn clue, but it must be something important if he wishes to drag his entire family and three dragons North. Mayhaps he wishes to marry Sansa to Aegon in a political alliance.”

“Is that an arrangement you would support, Lord Stark?”

“No, Robb knows that he must have a bride chosen for him – and soon, I fear Catelyn and I have left the arrangement far later than we should have – but I will not force his sister into that situation.” His voice became quiet, and Jon leaned forward to hear him better. “Robb and Catelyn fear that King Rhaegar wishes to take the North from us, or another equally unpleasant punishment.”

Jon felt dread pool in his stomach. “The Rebellion ended eight-and-ten years ago, why would my father choose now to inflict a punishment on you?” He pretended not to notice his uncle’s slight wince at the reminder that he was indeed the child of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen.

“We were lucky to be pardoned by the King. Many other families who sided with Robert during the Rebellion were not so lucky – I believe it is only our house and Robert’s own brothers who avoided death, the Night’s Watch or land and power being taken from them.” The Lord of Winterfell murmured quietly. “I do not know what the King needs to be discussed, but Winterfell must be prepared for all possibilities.”

Jon let out a sigh of relief at the realisation that his family would not be executed on his father’s orders, and Ned smiled slightly at him over his wine cup. “Go and join your cousins outside. Robb cannot teach Brandon to shoot an arrow and hit the correct target, mayhaps you will have better luck.”

Jon grinned and bowed quickly to his lord uncle. “Thank you, my lord.” He said and quickly headed in the direction of the courtyard, leaving an uneasy and troubled Ned Stark behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of all the chapters that I’ve written so far, this is the shortest, so it does get a bit longer from here. For some reason I’ve always found Jon quite difficult to write about (probably because in the television show he’s effectively a wooden board who kills bad guys) but it had to be done for this to make any sense. If you feel like there’s too much emphasis placed on Robb you may as well leave now if I’m being entirely honest with you. Anyway, I hope you liked it and I’d love it if you could let me know what you think! Next chapter will be up tomorrow 100% so until then!


	2. Daenerys I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is chapter two, as promised! Trip to King’s Landing now to see Daenerys! Thank you for everyone who has reviewed, I love to hear what you think. Let me know if you have any ideas, although obviously hate comments will be deleted! On with the story! (I use too many exclamation marks but oh well.)

Daenerys I

“Why were you not at the council meeting today?” 

At the sound of her brother’s voice, Daenerys Stormborn turned to face him, not bothering to curtsey as he approached – she had learnt long ago that he would only tease her for it. “The council members object to my presence at every meeting I attend, the first one after Lord Tyrell’s death is not a time at which I wish to provoke them.” She looked around the private gardens quickly – though few guests were staying with the royal family, one could never be too careful.

Rhaegar sighed loudly and looked down at her. “He was a good Hand, it is true. But you have done more for your people than any of the men sitting in that room, myself included. I do not mean the people of Kings Landing – “ he said quickly as she began to argue. “I mean those unfortunate souls in Slaver’s Bay. Although I do believe it is now known as the Bay of Dragons, is it not, _Mhysa_?”

“Yes, it is – and I’m sure I recall telling you _not to call me that.”_

The King quickly faked a thoughtful look. “Yes, I think I remember, but alas, since your brother is a king you cannot command him.” He laughed at her irritated expression, a look usually saved for his daughter, Rhaenys. “Relax, little sister, I’m only teasing. What else do they call you over there anyway?”

Dany rolled her eyes, secretly pleased at the genuine interest her brother showed. “Mhysa, the Breaker of Chains, the Unburnt, and the Mother of Dragons – those are the most common, though I am sure the former Masters use less favourable nicknames when my back is turned.” She shrugged lightly. _What they think of me is of no importance,_ she thought to herself. _I am not their Queen._

“Are the new rulers doing well there?”

The girl smiled with a small amount of pride in her eyes. “None of the cities have seen a return to slavery, and Yunkai is even beginning to see an increase in profits thanks to your permission to trade with them.” She paused for a moment. “After we return from Winterfell, I wish to make another trip back to ensure the peace remains – you and I both know that old traditions do not die easily.”

Rhaegar nodded his agreement, before placing both hands on her shoulders. “I know I have never been your father Daenerys, but I have always tried to guide and look after you as one should. I have allowed you to enter dangerous situations through my own carelessness, but my true flaw was overlooking you – and Rhaenys and Aegon – in favour of my duties.” He took and deep breath and stared intently into her eyes. “I want you to know that I am proud of the woman you have become and everything you have done in the name of House Targaryen. I wish I had told you more often.”

“Are you well, brother?” Daenerys asked in shock. _He must be ill to say such things._

The King laughed humourlessly as he looked across the horizon with glassy eyes and a faraway look. “Have I truly been such a terrible brother to you all these years? Mayhaps I have more of our father within me than I thought.” He shook his head lightly and smiled down at her. “Run along, Little Dragon, you must finish packing. Elia will not mind you sharing her carriage, are you sure you wish to ride?”

“You know I have always been more comfortable on a horse – or a dragon.” At her brother’s sharp look, she allowed herself a grin. “You know that my dragons come with me – I will not leave them here.” She kissed her brother quickly on the cheek and left in the directions of her rooms, unaware of Rhaegar’s eyes on her as she disappeared.

**OoOoO**

The next morning, Daenerys was interrupted while feeding Rhaegal by the appearance of Visenya, her youngest niece. The girl looked much more like a Targaryen than her sister, with curly silver hair and warm brown eyes. Though only ten, Daenerys knew that the youngest Targaryen would grow to be a great beauty one day. The girl looked very distressed and ran to her cousin, burying her face in Dany’s soft hair.

“What is the matter Visenya?” Daenerys asked gently, wiping tears from the little girl’s cheeks 

“Everyone’s arguing Dany, Aegon and Father, and Rhaenys keeps shouting that you’re being exiled – I don’t understand what’s happening.” She stared up at her with her huge eyes and Dany pulled her closer and whispered in her ear.

“Dragons argue Vis, it’s what we do. Now if you go to your room and ask a servant to prepare your clothes, we can go into the city once I’ve sorted out what is happening with our silly family. If you’re good, we can even do some singing.”

“Promise Dany?” When the older girl nodded, her face split into a huge grin. “I’ll go and get ready, don’t take too long!”

Watching her go, Daenerys felt a sad smile tug at her lips. Making a mental note to pay as much attention to her younger niece as possible – since the girl was clearly woefully deprived of relationships with her other family members – she went to investigate the source of Visenya’s discomfort.

It did not take long. In the small council chamber, Rhaegar sat in the chair at the head of the table looking more tired than Daenerys had ever seen her. In front of him, Aegon paced furiously, his shouts echoing through the room, while Rhaenys sobbed in a chair of her own.

“What is the meaning of this?” Daenerys asked coldly to the room. Her brother started at the sound of her voice and Aegon stopping yelling, choosing instead to stare at the floor. Rhaenys was the first one to answer.

“Dany, they’re going to send you away! I’m sorry I didn’t know, I promise I thought Father would let the idea go!” She gazed at her aunt earnestly with tears in her eyes.

“Rhaenys, enough. It is not as bad as all that.” Rhaegar sighed and stood, making his way over to Daenerys. “Little sister, I know you are young and have accomplished much already, but the time has come to arrange your marriage.” 

She allowed herself only a moment of sadness. A fleeting sense of nostalgia, the shouts of ‘Mhysa’ echoing through her head and the feel of broken chains in her hands. _I will return – Rhaegar himself promised me I could._ She took a deep breath and stared steadily at her brother. “Who have you chosen, Your Grace?” If Rhaegar was thrown by her use of formal titles, he did not show it.

“Robb Stark.”

_So that’s what has everyone in a mess, _Dany thought dryly. “I assume this is why you wish to speak to Lord Stark so urgently.” The King merely shrugged and did not answer her.

“I’m sorry, Daenerys, I refused to marry him in favour of Loras Tyrell.” Rheanys mumbled. _She will need all the help she can get with him, mayhaps Renly could offer his assistance? _

Daenerys smiled half-heartedly at the older girl – she always had gotten upset over the slightest of things. “Do not concern yourself with me, Jon tells me that his cousin has grown to be a kind man.” She bit down on her lip as her brother looked faintly sick at the mention of his son, a furious comment bubbling on her lips.

“You can’t do this Father!” All eyes turned to Aegon as he finally spoke. “You cannot make her marry this – this ill-bred thug!”

“Hold your tongue boy, you speak to the King.” Rhaegar’s voice was pure ice.

“He is a traitor Father, you cannot be serious! They are beasts in the North, the whole lot of – “

“Be quiet Aegon. Have you forgotten that your own _brother _is a Northerner?” Daenerys snapped coldly.

“An alliance needs to be made between the Targaryens and the Starks and Rhaenys does not wish to be married to Lord Robb.” Rhaegar stated matter-of-factly. “Daenerys does not object to the match and the Starks should be honoured to accept such a woman as the future Lady of Winterfell.” His voice dropped slightly and filled with an emotion Daenerys could not identify as he continued. “You cannot marry her, Aegon.”

Dany’s heart dropped at that. “W-what do you mean? Aegon, what is he saying?” She fought against the bile rising in her throat.

Her nephew looked at her with difficulty, pain in his eyes. “With me, you would be Queen.” He reached for her arm, but she pulled it away quickly, regretting her sharp movement when hurt filled his face.

“I forbid it.” Rhaegar said flatly. “I am sorry my son, it became too dangerous a practice when my father burned Brandon and Rickard Stark in the throne room.” _Never again,_ the silent vow echoed through Daenerys’ head.

“May I be excused brother?” She asked uneasily, feeling Aegon’s eyes boring into her. “I promised Visenya I would take her to the city today.” When he nodded wearily, she quickly made her way to the door and left, praying that no one – particularly Aegon – wished to speak further.

**OoOoO**

She had almost made it to her chambers when she heard him.

“Daenerys? Daenerys!”

Dany took a deep breath, turning to face her _other_ brother. “Hello Viserys.”

He stepped closer to her, silver hair glowing in the light of dawn. “I must admit I am disappointed in you Dany. You have been back from Essos for a day already and have yet to see me.” His hand slipped down her arm to rest on her waist and the girl bit back the bile rising in her throat. “And we begin our travel to Winterfell in mere hours. When were you planning on spending time with me, dearest little sister?”

Daenerys took a step back and pretended not to notice her brother’s indigo eyes darken to almost black in his rage. “I’m sorry brother, it has taken much time and energy to prepare for our trip North. I promised I have not forgotten about you. 

Viserys glared at her and yanked the door behind her open, pushing his sister into her chambers and slamming the door behind him. “Your Grace.” He hissed, face twisted in rage. “How many times have I now had to ask you to call me that?”

“You are not the King.” Dany reminded him sharply. “Rhaegar is far older than either of us and a good king. What you are asking of me is treason.”

Without warning, she stumbled backwards, her face stinging from where he had struck her. “I am the rightful King, do you hear me? Rhaegar has betrayed our father and the Targaryen dynasty! As we speak, he plans a peace deal with the Northern traitor and his Tully whore.” He smiled at her and Daenerys saw a fire burning in his eyes as he stepped closer. _So this is the madness that the servants whisper of. _“When I take the Iron Throne, my sweet sister, the Starks, Baratheons and all the other traitors will burn in front of us at the hands of our dragons. And you will reign as my beautiful queen.” He reached for her cheek – the same one he had struck – as if to caress it.

“_Gaomagon daor renigon nyke_.” Daenerys spat. The sharp High Valyrian shocked Viserys enough that he took a step back; his grasp of languages that were not the Common Tongue was weak. “I am not your plaything and I will never be your bride – Rhaegar has forbidden it and for that I will always be grateful to him. He is the King of the Seven Kingdoms and we are his family. We _will not betray him.”_

“Careful girl, you don’t want to wake the dragon, do you?” Viserys hissed, malice in his smile.

“_I am the dragon._” Daenerys said calmly, a fierce pride momentarily overpowering any fear she had for her brother. She pulled herself up to her full height and stared defiantly at her brother. “I have walked through fire and come out not only unscathed, but with three dragons at my side. I have liberated slaves and conquered cities like my ancestors before me. I am the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains and the Mother of Dragons. The next time you raise a hand to me will be the last time you have hands.” She turned her head towards a flickering candle from the night before and picked it up from her bedside table, her fingers dancing over the flame as she spoke coldly. “Leave now, Viserys, or we will find out whether fire can truly not kill a dragon.”

Her brother fled the room without another word, almost knocking over her handmaiden as she entered the room in his haste. Missandei looked at his retreating back, before gazing at Daenerys questioningly. The princess smiled slightly, placing her candle on the table and beginning to unplait her braids. “I will need you to continue packing for me, there is a little girl waiting to leave the city.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If online translation serves me correctly, the High Valyrian Dany uses translates to "Do not touch me."
> 
> As you can tell, I like to use quotes from the tv show. I really hope you liked this chapter from Daenerys’ perspective and the new ideas introduced, I think you guys might like where this is heading and I think a lot of you will be surprised a few times – I hope so anyway. 
> 
> Also, I’d like to remind everyone that I do not write for you. I love that some of you enjoy my writing and would like to see more of it, and I will always welcome constructive criticism, but I write primarily because it makes me happy. Last night a very unkind comment was posted on FanFiction.Net and I removed it because, whether or not you like someone’s story, calling them idiotic and stupid is not okay. So keep in mind that people do not have any obligation to write what you want them to and everyone is more than capable of just not commenting if they intensely dislike a story – I have done it many times, it’s really not that difficult. Thank you to everyone ELSE who has reviewed and favourited so far, I hope you carry on. Until next time!


	3. Arya I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For once I’ve updated after less than three weeks – I wouldn’t get used to it, if I were you. I’m sorry that it’s a few days later than I was hoping, but on Thursday (the day I was planning to publish this chapter), a close friend of mine was stabbed on his way home from school, so I’ve been too busy until today to update. We received confirmation that he’s okay, Thank God, and so I’m finally able to present chapter 3. Enjoy!

Arya I

Exactly one month after the announcement of the Royal Visit, the market had come to White Harbour. _Mayhaps the two events are connected, _Arya thought as she played with a sharp dagger on display, watching servants from Winterfell gather the food and spices needed for the visit.

“Arya, no! Don’t touch that!” Sansa snatched the dagger from her sister and placed it back carefully, apologising profusely to the stall owner before turning back and sneering, “what kind of lady plays with daggers? If you do that in front of the King and Queen, Mother will have your head!” _The next time Robb and Jon leave me alone with her, I will murder the three of them as they sleep._

Arya sneered right back at her sister. “I’m not a lady, at least not a boring one like you!” She quickly ran in the opposite direction, only to feel her sister yank on her hand.

“Stop making a scene or I’ll tell Mother!” Arya scoffed at Sansa’s lame attempt at threatening her, but moved away from the crowds nonetheless. “I mean it Arya, I will.”

“Do it then, see if I care.” By now the girls were out of the market and near the trees. The dark-haired girl turned around quickly, hearing a branch snap nearby. “Shut up, you fool,” She hissed quietly as Sansa continued her threats. “Can you hear that?”

“Only you because you can’t keep your mouth shut.” Sansa snapped back, before stopping to hear the noises herself. “Is that humming?”

Arya crept forward quickly, careful to not make a sound. “I think it’s singing. Come on, I want to look!” She grabbed Sansa’s arm and pulled her into the trees, the musical voice growing louder with each step.

“_The ones who’d been gone for so very long,_

_She couldn’t remember their names_

_They spun her around on the damp old stones, _

_Spun away all her sorrow and _– who’s there?”

Even Arya, who found beauty as useful as a blunt sword, stared in awe at the young women in front of her. She was clearly of noble birth, wearing a light silk dress with embroidery, a garment so precious that even Sansa did not possess such a thing. Her hair was the palest silver Arya had ever seen, and the pale skin reminded her of the thick snow she remembered had fallen during the last winter. She was petite, shorter than both Stark girls, and her features were delicate and gentle, but her violet eyes held a dangerous passion within them that took both girls off-guard.

What surprised Arya even more than the appearance of this stranger, however, was the fact that she wore no furs to cover her bare shoulders and only a small pair of sandals, as though she had intended to travel to Dorne and made a mistake.

“Please forgive us, my lady.” Sansa apologised at once, ever the perfect daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark. “We did not mean to intrude, we just heard your singing and my sister wanted to investigate.”

Arya glared daggers at her sister, but the silver lady only laughed lightly. “That is understandable, no need for any apologies.”

“Where are you from?” After her interruption, Arya could not help but feel uneasy as those unusual eyes gazed back at her. “I only meant that I have never seen anyone with your hair or eye colour before in the North, I doubt you are from here.”

The lady thought for a moment. “You are right. My family is from Volantis, I moved to Westeros as a child. I am glad by brother wanted to visit this market before we travel further, it is quite beautiful – though I fear I am lost.” She laughed warmly and looked between the two sisters briefly, eyeing the high quality of the fur draped over their shoulders. “You two, on the other hand, seem to know exactly where you are. Are you far from home?”

“They’re not, but you are.”

All three girls whirled around to face the man who had spoken, but his dark eyes were fixed only on the unknown woman as he smiled, showing yellowing teeth with many missing. Arya walked closer to him and the woman, but – to her utter shock – Sansa grabbed her hand and shook her head silently, her eyes flickering to the man’s hand, where Arya could see a glint of steel. 

A dagger.

“Now I don’t want trouble with you two.” The man began, stalking towards the young lady. “So how about you turn around, go back home and pretend none of this has happened.” Before Arya could protest or think of a plan, the young woman nodded at her, silent permission for the two girls to leave her.

Hands still clasped together, the girls took a step back. Almost immediately, the man had grabbed their companion by the throat and held the dagger against it. “That’s it, keep going.”

_She’s not even frightened, _Arya thought in awe. _She is about to die and yet she is not frightened, I will not be either. I am Arya Stark – wolves do not cry. _Sansa, on the other hand, had tears dripping down her pretty face as they reached a safe distance away and turned their backs. They could still hear the woman’s – or mayhaps she was a girl, she must have been younger than both Robb and Jon – high voice murmur a foreign prayer, and the murderer’s hissed promise to “send your pretty head right back to the King.” There was the sharp sound of steel hitting bone, a dull thud, and silence.

Arya willed herself not to cry as her sister was, silently begged herself no to feel fear as she heard the man creeping up behind her slowly, and she did not flinch when his hand touched her shoulder. “Don’t turn around Arya.”

_Robb?_

Both girls hugged their brother as he came into view; in response, he pulled them tight against him and kissed their heads gently. “Theon, clean that up before they turn around.” Once the Stark ward confirmed any trace of the body was gone, Arya turned slowly, preparing herself to see no one else in the clearing.

Instead, she saw her father’s sword, Ice, laid on the ground, its Valyrian steel blade coated in blood, while the silver lady stood nearby, rubbing her throat – Arya felt sick as she saw the dark bruises already forming there – before smiling lightly at the two girls. “You did the right thing, well done. Would I be correct to assume you all know each other?" 

Before Arya could answer, Robb was at the girl’s side, offering her water from his own flask, which she accepted gratefully. The little girl couldn’t help but giggle at how Robb’s large frame dwarfed the small woman in front of him. “My lady, I apologise for you having to witness such a thing. I hope I did not frighten you too much.” His younger sister rolled her eyes as the heir to Winterfell kissed the stranger’s hand politely. _Show off._

“It’s alright Sir, please do not apologise for saving my life. Forgive me, I do not know your name?” She reddened ever so slightly under Robb’s intense gaze, yet she seemed incredibly calm for a woman in her position. 

“I’m Arya Stark of Winterfell.” She jumped in, when it became clear that Robb was too captivated by this strange woman to answer. “That’s Robb, Lord Eddard Stark’s heir, and this is my sister Sansa.” The red-haired girl managed a watery smile, which the lady responded to warmly. Her violet eyes glanced up at Robb as she curtseyed to him gracefully, a new respect in her voice as she spoke. 

“I thank you again for saving my life Lord Stark, I fear I may never be able to repay you.”

“You don’t have to.” Robb replied immediately, pulling off his furs. “Take this, you’ll catch your death dressed like that up here.” The girl began to protest, but soon allowed Arya’s brother to drape the cloak over her, hugging it tighter around her shoulders as it drowned her tiny frame.

“Thank you again, my Lord, and I am very glad you are both safe.” She spoke softly to them all, her throat clearly causing her more discomfort than she would admit to. “I must be getting back now; my brother will worry if I do not return quickly.” She quickly denied any of Robb’s requests to escort her back to her relatives.

“Why did the man tell you he’ll send your head to the King?” Arya blurted.

“May I at least know you name?” Robb asked at the same time.

She looked straight at Arya with her unnerving eyes and smiled grimly. “I do not know, child – I am of no importance to King Rhaegar.” She turned to Robb and, to everyone’s surprise, stretched up on her tiptoes to lightly kiss his cheek, the young man’s cheeks flushing as soon as her lips made contact with his skin. “Do not ask for my name, I am sure we will meet again soon.” With one last smile, she turned on her heel and was gone.

**OoOoO**

Arya mentally cursed her older brother’s stupidity. From the moment Catelyn had seen Robb with blood on his shirt, she and Ned had demanded the whole story. They had attempted to hide the issue as a nosebleed, but Sansa – another fool, in Arya’s mind – had cracked under her lord father’s gaze and revealed the entire truth.

“Oh Robb, are you alright? How did you know where to find the girls? Are you certain he is dead?” Catelyn threw her arms around her eldest son. “I am so proud of you for protecting your sisters.”

Robb rolled his eyes good-naturedly and hugged his mother back. “You can hear the two of them arguing in Dorne, and having your head chopped off normally does kill you Mother.”

“Besides,” Arya cut in. “He killed that man for his _lady friend.” _Theon laughed loudly, Sansa giggled and everyone else in the room turned to stare at Robb. _That’s for not cleaning your shirt._

If looks could kill, Arya would be burned to a crisp, but the damage had already been done. “What do you mean Arya?” Catelyn demanded, quickly growing agitated. “Robb, have you been seeing a woman?”

“No, Mother.” Robb sighed, rubbing his neck uncomfortably. “The man had a knife to a girl’s throat when I arrived – “ he paused to glare at Jon as he muttered something Arya could not hear “ – what else was I supposed to do?”

“Who was this girl?” The Lord of Winterfell had been so quiet that Arya had almost forgotten he was there.

“We don’t know.” She answered quickly. “She had silver hair and said she was from Volantis, but she refused to give her name.” Sansa nodded beside her and Catelyn pursed her lips.

“She was probably on the run from something. What respectable lady won’t give her name to the man who saved her life?” _Mayhaps one who understands there is more to the world than being ladylike,_ Arya thought with venom.

“She could’ve been a whore.” Theon supplied helpfully. “Maybe that’s how you’ll see her again Robb! You can take a trip to the whore house, bend her over and – “Before anyone could say anything, Theon was pinned against the wall, the cold Valyrian steel blade against his throat.

“Robb, don’t!” Catelyn called, but her words were ignored. Sansa gasped at her brother’s anger, and quickly scowled when she saw matching smirks on Arya, Bran and Rickon’s faces.

“I’m not going to tell you again to keep your mouth shut.” Robb threatened, pressing the blade harder against Theon’s throat. “You will not talk about a lady like that, especially not in front of my mother and sisters. Do you understand me?” Jon, the only person brave – or foolish – enough to approach him, placed a hand on his cousin’s arm, but Robb did not lower the sword until Theon had muttered an agreement.

Arya grinned brightly and her eldest brother gave her a slight wink as he sheathed his sword again, brushing off the half-hearted scolding from Lady Catelyn. “Mother, he deserved it,” was his only explanation, before turning to Lord Stark. “Father, may I be excused now?”

Ned nodded, clearly having ignored the interaction that had just taken place. “All of you can, but don’t go too far.” Arya felt herself grin as she realised the Royal Family could arrive any minute. She was the first to leave, pushing past Theon and taking care to shove into Sansa as she left through the heavy wooden doors.

The cold was harsh against her face, and she breathed in the icy air until her lungs ached. She moved quickly through the courtyard, laughing to herself as she heard the titters of agitated servants as she interrupted their preparations. _Sansa can impress them with her sewing needles and singing, _she thought vehemently, _I’m more wolf than girl._ As if to prove her point, she grabbed a small pie from the baker as he hurried past with a small mountain of them. He looked around quickly to find the culprit, but the little girl had already disappeared.

She bit into the pie happily, the taste of rabbit filling her mouth as she grinned. Her youngest brothers suddenly appeared beside her, Bran running ahead as he yelled at Rickon to keep up. Arya looked down at the smallest Stark, who had stopped running after his brother in favour of gazing at the delicious pie in her hand. Cursing his ability to manipulate her, Arya signed loudly and broke the pie in half, handing the slightly larger piece to the small boy in front of her. His eyes lit up and he gave her a bright grin; she barely had the time to ruffle his hair before he was off, chasing after his older brother with a renewed vigour. The dark-haired girl smiled after him, her breath fogging in the icy air and she finished her rabbit pie, a small noise of contentment leaving her lips.

A loud shout interrupted her moment of peace, as all eyes around her turned to Bran, who – to no one’s surprise but to her mother’s displeasure – was perched on one of the high towers of Winterfell, his smile visible to even Arya as she stood far below him.

“The King is here!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until next time!


	4. Robb I

Robb I

The sound of one hundred horses filled Robb’s ears as they hurried into place to meet the King and his family. He smirked briefly as Arya shoved Bran out of the way and Sansa hissed at her to behave. _Those girls really do fight like wild animals. _Beside him, his mother whispered to his father, “Where is Jon?”

Ned sighed uncomfortably. “The King did not think it appropriate to have his _bastard _in the presence of the Queen.” Robb glowered at the floor at his statement but heard Catelyn’s indignant voice. 

“Your sister married him Ned, whether the union is accepted or not!” 

“Hush my love.” Ned murmured. “They are here.”

Sure enough, a large carriage had thundered through the gates, completely gold with an elaborate pattern and the Targaryen sigil emblazoned on the door. It was surrounded by guards, many of whom stopped to allow King Rhaegar and Prince Aegon to pass through. 

Though the same age as Lord Eddard, the elder man on the horse looked much younger, and even Robb could acknowledge that the King was attractive, with a strong jaw and chin length blonde hair, so pale it almost looked white in the grey light of the North. His violet eyes scanned the courtyard and he wore a simple gold crown – _not that he needs it, _Robb thought; even to him, the man gave off an aura of power and control as he sat on his white steed. Beside him, Prince Aegon was far less striking than Rhaegar, his jaw rounder and both his hair and his eyes an average shade of brown. The heir to Winterfell could not help but notice that the prince, though a year or so older than him, lacked the air of confidence that his father did – one that he himself, Robb noticed with some smugness, had been told many times that he carried, as did his lord father.

The King and his son dismounted as a guard opened the carriage door, and Queen Elia stepped out, beautiful despite her age and draped in many thick furs that her handmaiden held as she stepped onto the ground. Princess Rhaenys followed soon after, and with her dark hair and olive skin, Robb supposed that she was pretty enough, though not as beautiful as Targaryens were rumoured to be – _and certainly nowhere near as stunning as the woman in the forest, _Robb thought with longing as he remembered her tiny frame wrapped in his furs, far too large for her.

A small girl skipped out of the carriage after her sister – Princess Visenya, Robb recalled Jon mentioning her once or twice before. She was nowhere near as elegant and grabbed a guard’s arm as she slipped on the step, her silvery hair flying in the wind as she grinned toothily at the man she had clung to.

The whole courtyard bowed for the Royal Family, standing only when Rhaegar had gestured for Ned to do so. They shook hands warmly enough, though both eyes still held a small amount of suspicion in them. As the King greeted his mother, Robb noticed the eldest princess looking curiously at him, and smiled awkwardly back, before his view of her was interrupted by her father.

“You must be Robb.” He smiled warmly and held his hand out, his grin growing when he felt Robb’s grip. “This one’s a warrior, I can tell already.” He chuckled and clapped Robb’s shoulder roughly, before turning to Sansa, who curtseyed perfectly like a good little lady. Arya, on the other hand, reached out to shake the King’s hand; though Catelyn looked like she would die from embarrassment, Rhaegar roared with laughter and shook her hand. “You should meet my sister, she doesn’t like to curtsey either.”

“Speaking of Daenerys, where is she, my King?” Queen Elia called from beside Catelyn, who she had greeted with a warm hug after allowing Ned to kiss her hand. “Should we send a guard to look for her?” Her heavy accent was laced with concern.

Before her husband could respond, a man came out of the carriage – although, at six-and-twenty and Lord of Dragonstone, Viserys Targaryen should have been riding a horse, in Robb’s opinion. Unlike his brother, he was thin and very lanky, with cold violet eyes and pale hair hanging down his face like curtains. “I said she shouldn’t have brought _them _with her, if she’s gotten herself killed it’s her own fault.” His face was twisted into a cruel frown and many of his family members threw him a dark look.

“Do not speak of our sister that way, Viserys,” Rhaegar warned calmly. “If she wishes to bring them then she may – and we will not tell her otherwise.” Robb caught Theon’s eye, his own confusion mirrored in his friend’s face.

Just then, a high scream sounded from above as a large shadow covered the courtyard. Gazing up, Sansa let out a small scream, Arya, Bran and Rickon shouted in excitement, and the rest of the people around Robb were shocked into silence.

The black dragon was easily the largest of the three, a beautiful yet terrifying beast so huge that Robb could tell each wing spanned the height of the walls around Winterfell. Two more dragons flew slightly behind, one yellow and one green, smaller but still enormous beasts that the entire world had thought extinct until these three were born. The black dragon released a breath of fire into the air, causing a few more screams, although it had been careful not to damage anything, and circled once around Winterfell, before letting out another scream and flying away, the other two following closely behind, breathing fire of their own.

When they had disappeared, the courtyard returned their gazes to the unaffected Targaryens, most of whom had not looked up at the entrance of the dragons. Rhaegar caught Robb’s eye and must have seen the awe in them, as he let out a laugh at the palpable shock among the Northerners. “You get accustomed to it eventually. It is always quite a sight, I must say.” He turned to his wife and took her hand in his. “See, my dear, Daenerys can take care of herself.” The Queen nodded with a smile and began directing the guards to their luggage.

“Wait!” Catelyn gasped. “You mean to tell me she’s riding that thing?”

“Of course.” Rhaegar said in slight surprise. “She has done so for many years now, what else would a Targaryen do with a dragon?” He laughed lightly and took the Lady of Winterfell’s arm in his own. “Do not concern yourself with waiting for her. Dany will join us soon enough.”

**OoOoO**

This was by far the most uncomfortable meal Robb had ever attended. Since the feast was to be held later in the evening, it was only the Stark and Targaryen families eating in the hall, and the discomfort was magnified tenfold in the empty space. _If only Jon could be here,_ Robb thought forlornly.

“Are you really Robb Stark?” Rhaenys broke the quiet abruptly, staring straight at him.

He coughed lightly, grabbing Arya’s wrist quickly before she could begin thumping him on the back. “Yes I am.” _Have been for quite some time actually. _A look of pure disappointment crossed the princess’ face and Robb stared back at her in confusion. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine, I was just… surprised, that is all.” She shot a glare at her father, who was – rather unsuccessfully, Robb noticed – attempting to hide his smile in his cup of wine. “You don’t exactly come across as I had expected from what I have heard in the capital.” She turned red in embarrassment as she realised what she had said, but Robb merely laughed.

“Do not apologise my Lady, I know the Starks are not popular in much of the South, even now.” He raised his cup to his lips with a smile, smug at the way her cheeks reddened further as she gazes back at him. “I am only happy to be able to prove them wrong.” He winked at her and the stunned girl nearly poked herself in the cheek with her fork. He turned his head away to avoid laughing, but her next words made his blood freeze.

“My father wished for us to be married.”

He turned to her sharply, and she must have seen something in his face, for she seemed rather offended as she continued. “He wanted to settle the old grudge between our houses, but I wished to marry Ser Loras instead.” She scowled as he choked on his wine. “Is there a problem?”

“None at all.” Robb grinned at her, suppressing his laughter. “I wish you two all the happiness the gods can bless you with.” He returned to his food, still smirking to himself. _Thank the gods for Loras Tyrell. _

“Do you fight too Princess?” Arya piped up with a grin; even from across the table, Robb could see his mother’s cheek redden, and Rhaenys pulled a rather unpleasant face.

“Definitely not, Daenerys can do… whatever she does in Essos, but I’d like to stay far away from it all.” She sniffed delicately, clearly disgusted by the idea of battle, to the distain of her mother.

“_Princess _Daenerys,” Queen Elia stressed the word carefully, “has freed tens of thousands of slaves in the Bay of Dragons. We should all be proud.” Rhaegar nodded in agreement, but Robb caught Catelyn raise her eyebrows in slight disapproval. “Tell me, little dove,” the queen said, turning to Sansa, “Did you make your dress yourself?”

Sansa smiled proudly and blushed. “Yes, Your Grace.” Her quiet voice was shy, the opposite of her younger sister’s previous outburst.

“You have a beautiful skill – you must make something for me one day.” Elia smiled at the girl, before sending a slightly pointed glance at little Visenya, who was too busy trading stories of dragons and White Walkers with Rickon to pay attention to her mother.

Just as Robb was about to tuck into his first – hopefully of many – slice of apple pie, the heavy doors to the hall swung open, and the whole table turned to see who had joined them. The heir of Winterfell dropped his spoon, barely registering the loud clattering sound as his eyes met a familiar violet gaze. _It can’t be_.

“I’m sorry I am late – the Northerners really do know nothing about caring for dragons.”

**OoOoO**

Of all the things Robb had expected of Daenerys Targaryen – and there had been much speculation from Arya and Sansa – the beautiful women he had saved in the forest earlier that day had not been one of them. He found it difficult to tear his gaze from her in his awe as he stood with the rest of his family to greet her. When he finally could look away, one glance at Sansa and Arya proved they were as shocked as he was.

To the King and Queen’s embarrassment, Visenya threw herself at the older girl as soon as she saw her; Daenerys, however, merely smiled at the little girl and told her gently but firmly to finish her dinner. “I’ll tell you more stories later Vis, be polite to our guests.” She had murmured before turning to the standing Starks.

“Lord Stark, such an honour.” Daenerys said politely to his lord father, curtseying gently before allowing him to kiss her hand. She turned to the Lady of Winterfell warmly and placed a hand on the elder woman’s arm. “Lady Stark, I already regret never having visited your kingdom before during my travels – both your home and the North are beautiful.” To Robb’s surprise, Catelyn gave a small but genuine smile back, the praise of Winterfell clearly going over well with her. _Well played princess, _Robb thought with a smirk, before he found her in front of him.

“Princess.” He kissed her hand gently, never breaking eye contact; to his disappointment, she did not appear affected by his charms as her niece had, merely offering a slight smile to tell him she would play along with his game.

“Lord Robb, your cousin has told me much about you.” She replied with a slight curtsey, before turning to Sansa and Arya, both of whom curtseyed far deeper than she had – Robb hid a laugh at Arya’s blatant wobble, but Daenerys did not seem to care for formality. “Lady Sansa, you truly are the Northern beauty you are claimed to be – seeing your mother, I cannot say I am surprised. And you,” she turned to Arya with a grin. “Jon has told me so much about you, I would love to hear some of your stories first hand.” The younger girl nodded with a large grin, before Daenerys turned to greet Bran and Rickon.

Once they had sat down again – with Rhaenys, to her displeasure, moving up a space to make room for her aunt – Robb found himself next to Daenerys, who was even more beautiful than he seemed to remember. eHer _HHiecfijqe__Her eyes are much lovelier when she is happy, _he noticed immediately.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Robb Stark.” She murmured into the rim of her wine goblet, careful not to be overheard.

“Why did you not tell me?” Robb hissed back, torn between anger and amusement at her antics.

“Because if I had, you would have escorted me to Winterfell yourself.” She retorted quietly, continuing before he had the chance to argue. “While that would have been kind, I did not want you to meet me and think me nothing more than a useless girl.” Her smile contrasted the slight worry in her voice, and Robb gave her a warm smile of his own.

“Believe me, my princess, you do not need to have visited the Bay of Dragons to know that you are the precise opposite of useless.” He celebrated a small win when her eyes cleared of any negative feelings. “Are you alright now? How do you feel?”

Daenerys smiled, but it was not warm this time – more predatory than before. “If you think I fear death, Lord Stark, you do not know me very well. I learned how to die long ago.” Her gaze was unwavering, and Robb felt the tingles shoot up his spine. Fortunately, he was spared having to answer by Arya’s voice, though his stomach dropped at her words.

“Why did someone try to kill you Princess?”

A deafening silence from the royal family greeted the youngest Stark girl’s words; it was immediately and embarrassingly obvious that Daenerys had neglected to inform her relatives of the brush with death earlier that day. All eyes in the room turned to Daenerys, who – to her credit, in Robb’s opinion – merely sipped her wine with a slightly bashful expression. “Most likely because they disagree with my actions in Essos. It’s nothing to be concerned about – it happens more often than you might think.” She placed her cup back onto the table and calmly spoke over worried murmurs that had begun to emerge from both families. Robb noticed her tone become slightly icier as she continued and, despite her smile remaining in place, it no longer reached her eyes. “Perhaps if I were permitted carry a sword in Westeros, I would not find myself in so many of these situations.”

The room seemed to drop several degrees after her words. Robb risked a glance at the king, who had frozen with his wine cup held halfway to his lips. Feeling eyes on him, Rhaegar placed his wine back onto the table and let out a strained chuckle. The rest of the table relaxed somewhat and continued to finish their dessert, leaving Robb the only person to notice that the king’s gaze still had not left Daenerys’ face.

For once, Robb wished he had payed more attention to his father’s teachings on Westerosi politics. It was easy to ignore the going-ons in the south from the far-removed Winterfell, but much harder when sitting with those most in power of the Seven Kingdome – _and Essos. _His musings were broken as he felt a sharp gaze from across the table, and turned his head to meet the harsh brown stare of Prince Aegon. There was an undeniable hatred in his eyes, a great surprise to Robb – he could not remember having ever met the older man.

Daenerys must have noticed the silent standoff between the two, since she cleared her throat lightly. Aegon’s gaze immediately snapped away from him, focusing instead on Lord Viserys’ loud criticisms of the North. Though the petite silver-haired girl beside him did not meet Robb’s gaze as he looked down at her with a raised eyebrow, he felt a soft hand – much warmer than one should be – ghost across his palm for a moment, and the faintest of smiles lit her face.

_Yes, _Robb thought with a bemused smirk, _this could be a very interesting visit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it, leave me a review to let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5: Eddard I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the bad news is that this has taken about seven years to publish because I’m a dumb bitch (excuse my language it’s 3am while I’m writing this and I have four hour of psychology work tomorrow). BUT the good news is that chapter 6 is nearly done and will be up soon, chapter 7 is about half way through and I have about 25 chapters planned out (also for some reason I’ve written chapter 12 aswell, which I’m hoping you guys will enjoy as much as I do). I know loads of people don’t read these so there’s not a huge amount in telling you anything hugely important, but this is around the time where things start picking up a bit – there’s a lot of secrets and all that starting to come out. A couple people are asking me if there’s going to be a lot of violence and while there’s no wars for quite a while, it does get quite bloody at points (not too bad though because I can’t write about dead bodies with a straight face for some reason?)

Eddard I

“If you carry on frowning so much, people will think I’ve married an old man.”

Eddard turned at the sound of his wife’s voice, his scowl relaxing almost immediately. “You’d never allow such a thing.”

Catelyn smiled warmly at him, though he could see the worry in her eyes. “Indeed not.” She paused a moment, as if deciding whether to speak further; at his slightly raised eyebrow, she continued. “Ned, why did the King wish to speak with you alone?”

He took a deep breath. Though he had known she would ask him at some point, he had hoped that they might at least have some privacy. “There was no bad news.” His simple words held many meanings, and he saw the small worry lines on his wife’s face smooth almost imperceptibly. Her eyes filled with too many emotions for him to recognise them all, and for a moment he thought she might kiss him, despite only the heavy oak doors between them and their guests.

She did not. Instead, she leaned ever so slightly closer to him and whispered, “I fear for Robb and the Targaryen girl Ned, the dragon and the wolf have never had such an alliance.” Neither felt the need to mention Lyanna and Rhaegar’s love affair; for all the King loved his wife and was a good ruler, it pained Ned to see the man who had allowed Lyanna to die alone and who still neglected Jon.

“Robb’s a strong lad Cat,” he said soothingly. “He’ll manage that girl just fine. He’s always liked a bit of a challenge anyway.” She seemed placated somewhat, though her eyes glanced at the doors as though she could see through them to her son and his betrothed.

“We should really be returning, shouldn’t we?” Catelyn murmured.

“Of course.” The Lord of Winterfell allowed himself a small smile as he opened the heavy door for her, the sound of cheering and shouting filling their ears. “Along you go, they’ll be wondering where their lovely hostess has disappeared to. I’ll be there in a moment.” She shot him an odd look but did not deny him; she merely stood up straighter and pushed her shoulders back, entering the room with a gracious and a only somewhat fake smile.

He waited until the door had closed behind her to pull his sword out carefully and gaze around at the deserted hallway he stood in, the harsh wind rattling against the window the only other sound he could hear. Though the slight screech of steel was usually calming to his frayed nerves, this time it did nothing to rid him of his unease. With all of their visitors dining on the finest food in the North and all but a few of his servants serving them, there was no one that should have been roaming around the castle. One glance at the floor told him that no one had entered from the courtyard, still damp from the icy rain earlier that day, and the heavy doors to the castle’s entrance had been shut earlier that day to prevent intruders from slipping inside during the chaos. Darkness had fallen more than an hour previously, and he was alone.

He turned abruptly and followed his wife into the dining hall, eyes burning into his back and Rhaegar’s words ringing in his ears.

**OoOoO**

_Both men had remained silent for the first few minutes, neither weak enough to allow the discomfort to force their words. Rhaegar had dropped his smile and pleasantries the moment the door had closed behind them. His mouth fixed in a hard line, he gazed out of the window at the harsh yet beautiful – in Ned’s opinion, at least – landscape, dangerous violet eyes catching every ripple in the wind. Catelyn had always believed that one’s eyes revealed their true nature, and that a person’s goodness could be judged simply by the truth found within their gaze. While Ned had always found this difficult to comprehend, it was almost impossible to believe his wife’s words to be more than any of Sansa’s little stories with Rhaegar in front of him. His eyes lied – at least, they had when he had promised Lyanna his protection._

He is a good King, _Ned reminded himself sharply. _It does not do the mind well to dwell on such things of the past. _It was considerably more difficult to move on from the death of his sister with Jon wandering about the castle, and painful memories bubbled to the surface of his mind whenever he glanced at the boy’s father. A good King? Undoubtably, he was honourable and just. He had changed much since he was a young prince, reckless and wild, and many had forgotten about the tragic and ill-fated love affair of Lyanna Stark and the Targayen heir._

_But Ned could not forget._

_Despite all he had done to right his father’s wrongs, to create a dynasty of more than destruction and madness, it could never override the death of Lyanna at his hands – it did not matter to Ned that he had never directly cut her throat, he was more than responsible for the foolish wedding and promises of happiness, for the birth of his son that finally killed her. Rhaegar Targaryen had a wife and two children, had he truly needed to corrupt an innocent girl’s mind and drag her into his sick war? Perhaps it was not a mercy, as Ned and Catelyn had seen it at the time, to not take their power and land from them after Robert Baratheon lost his head. Perhaps in was only for Lyanna and her son that Rahegar had spared them._

_The King slowly moved from his position next to the wall to take a seat by the fire place. _Interesting, _Ned thought distractedly as he watched the silver-haired man rub his hands together, _it would appear that only one Targaryen does not fear the cold. _It was only when Rhaegar laughed that he realised he had spoken his observations aloud._

_“We are all immune to fire, but the cold seems to be a somewhat more selective power.” Rhaegar revealed with another twitch of his lips, the unhappiness he had felt before either gone or cleverly hidden. “Only Daenerys and our mother have been unable to be touched by either. I used to rage at the Gods in jealousy, but they have a strange way of working as we both know, and my sister has always been… rather singular.” Ned tried not to think of what that could mean in the future for his son. “I know you heard about Mace Tyrell?”_

_The Lord of Winterfell nodded grimly. “He was a good man, I’m sorry, your Grace. He was always loyal to you.” That was a lie, and Rhaegar had no issues with voicing that knowledge._

_“He was loyal to power, as are the rest of those houses. I’m one King running seven kingdoms Lord Stark and I have none truly loyal. I need your help.” At the look of shock Ned could feel on his face, he let out a harsh bark of laughter. “You can’t really believe I came all the way here just to introduce my sister to your son? The Seven Kingdoms needs a Hand of the King, Eddard, and I know you were one of Robert’s best advisors.”_

Tread carefully, _Ned reminded himself calmly, thinking of his words with caution. “I did help in that regards, it is true.” Neither man mentioned that Ned’s advice had nearly cost the Targaryens their dynasty, though the ugly truth weighed heavily on the room and made the air uncomfortable in Ned’s lungs with every breath. “But I hardly think I would be the best choice – many other houses would be honoured to serve House Targaryen.”_

_“And that’s exactly why they shouldn’t.” Rhaegar countered. “All these men want is to look honourable, how many can you name me that truly are?” Ned was thankful that he did not wait for a reply, since he indeed had not one name. “You would make a worthy Hand, Eddard, you’re no use to anyone turning into an icicle up here.” He paused for longer this time, as if unsure whether to speak his next words. “A war is coming.”_

_Ned stared at him in horror and surprise – whispers of another war for the throne had not yet reached his ears – but Rhaegar held up a hand before he could speak._

_“I don’t know when and I don’t know who against, but a war’s coming and I need to know that the people around me will do what’s best for the kingdoms, not their bloody pockets. The Lannisters, Tyrells, none of them are loyal – even the Baratheons act on what they think is right more often than my advisors do.” He leant forward, as if sharing a conspiracy. “You rebelled against my father because you believed it was _the right thing to do._ I need someone who can make those decisions with me, and I can’t very well appoint my sister, can I?” He let out an incredulous laugh at the idea, giving Ned a moment to recover from the discomfort that had suddenly invaded him at the mention of the failed rebellion. Even he could acknowledge that Rhaegar had been a good king for the Seven Kingdoms, but watching Robert’s execution had always been something painful to revisit._

_“No, I suppose not.”_

_The King nodded and stared at Ned with more intensity than the Lord of Winterfell had ever seen in him. “I want to make a better world, and I can’t do that fighting a war when I don’t my enemies. I need you.” His pause was brief and decisive. “Lord Eddard Stark, I name you Hand of the King.”_

_Ned smiled grimly, his fate sealed with those words. “I accept.”_

**OoOoO**

Even to Ned, a devout believer in the Old Gods, the godswood at this hour was a frightening place. The lake did not ripple with life as it did in the light, and the darkness concealed anything the moon could not touch. It was an uncomfortable feeling after a day of feeling as though he was being followed, and a shiver escaped across his shoulders. The half-shadowed face no longer looked as welcoming as it had earlier that day, and the wind that sang through the leaves now sounded like a scream in the eerie darkness.

Nevertheless, the heart tree remained, even in darkness, the best place for him to think, and he remained seated with his eyes closed despite the mild discomfort. His children all were frightened to a degree of the old power found in the godswood; even Robb, to Ned’s amusement, would not remain in the wood past nightfall, the natural fear of the Old Gods’ power too strong for even him. Only Jon’s Northern belief was strong, and he frequently prayed at all times of the day with Ned, showing only respect for their gods.

_Robb may be the heir to Winterfell, but the North is strong within Jon too; Lyanna had made sure of it, _Ned thought grimly.

It was common for larger animals to hunt in the godswood during the night, so it took a few moments for Ned to determine that the quiet sounds nearby sounded distinctly human. He rose quietly and stood, partially obscured by the heart tree, Ice quickly unsheathed and held at the ready. The rustling grew louder, accompanied by light footsteps. _Who would come to pray here alone at this time?_ All of his children and the servants had retired for the night, and – as far as Ned knew, at least – none of his guests prayed to the Old Gods. He waited with bated breath as the figure stumbled into the clearing.

He almost didn’t recognise Queen Elia; she looked very different with her hair a messy halo around her and jewels no longer draped across her neck and arms. She gazed around the godswood in a clear daze, and Ned stared in shock at her bare arms – it was suicide to wear so little in the North, yet she seemed unable to pay attention to the freezing wind around them. He approached her slowly, as if she were a wounded animal. “Your Grace, it’s late to be here.”

She whirled around to face him, her eyes glassy and her lips parted. She began to murmur in a frenzied rush, as though the words burned her throat as she spoke them. Long dark hair was twirled and tangled around trembling fingers as she continued her whisperings, still too far away for Ned to make out the words. He pushed himself forward slightly, more apprehensive than he cared to admit at the thought of dealing with a woman in a state of such agitation. “Queen Elia, do you need me to take you back to the castle?” _Gods, if she was like this, how did Rhaegar ever let her out of his sight? _She did not reply, only continued to pull on her dress and hair frantically, her words now slightly clearer as he crept closer.

“Can’t tell the King, can’t tell the King…. He’ll want to know, not good to hide secrets… Lyanna hid secrets, Lyanna’s gone, Lyanna’s gone…. Can’t tell the King…. Treason, treason, not good, treason’s not good… No, no, no, not good…”

Ned stared in utter confusion and mounting worry for the Queen. “My Queen, what can you not tell the King?”

Her eyes appeared not to see them as she continued, her voice still growing louder. “Can’t tell the King, the King doesn’t like liars… Not Daenerys either, no, no, no, too many lies… Treason, treason, Lyanna’s gone, Robert’s gone, too many gone.. Can’t tell the King.” Her voice rose with each word, and by the time she had mentioned Robert’s name her voice was a choked scream, even as her eyes remained vacant and her face slack. “Can’t know, can’t know… They’ll have my head, my head, can’t take my head… Can’t tell the King… Lyanna told the King and Lyanna’s not here…”

He grabbed her hands as they violently grabbed at her hair in desperation, a loud wail filling the cold air of the night. He forced her chin up to look at him, silently praying that she would not punish him later, and forced her dark brown eyes to stare back at his slate grey ones. “Your Grace, I need you to tell me what has happened. I can help.”

For a moment, her eyes filled with life, and a fear so crippling gazed back at him with such force that he had to close his eyes for a moment. When they opened, however, hers were clouded and empty once again, and the frenzied words that had stopped for a moment returned. Thankfully, they were now a whisper.

She drifted away from him and he did not follow; she would be able to make her own way back to the castle, and he feared his presence would only destress her further. Her mumbles grew faint and then inaudible as she wandered back towards the trees and disappeared within them, leaving behind her a concerned man with the deep suspicion that something was very wrong indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently President Trump is genuinely being impeached, we’ll see what happens with that. (Think most of the people reading this story are American actually, I don’t know what you guys think of him.)
> 
> As always, please leave a review and let me know what you think, and subscribe/follow/favourite/AnythingElseIMayHaveForgotten. Until next time!


	6. Jon II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Trying not to make the wait too long after that huge one, enjoy! ALSO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR’S NOTE BELOW BECAUSE IT’S IMPORTANT AND I NEED TO HEAR SOME OPINIONS FROM YOU GUYS ON PARTS OF THIS STORY. (In cap lock cos that’s more likely to get your attention.)

Chapter 6: Jon II

He simply watched her for a moment as she stood in front of the small statue, one of the few scattered around the town. It was not frequently visited among the people of Winterfell – many this far North preferred the faith of the Old Gods – but it was not rare for visitors to as they passed through on their way to the castle. What was unusual, Jon noted with a frown, was the God she had chosen to pray to that morning.

“Never thought you’d be the type to pray to the Stranger.”

She turned at the sound of his voice and rolled her eyes in mock annoyance at his interruption. “Merely asking for guidance, Jon. What are you doing here?”

_Leaving. _The word caught in is throat and rendered him unable to tell her the truth, so he scrambled quickly for a lie. “The castle is getting a bit crowded and everyone is beginning to pack. I thought they might appreciate a little more space.”

Dany smiled somewhat vacantly, her mind clearly somewhere else. “Kind of you to do so.” She glanced once more at the statue behind her and murmured a low prayer in High Valerian before approaching him. “Walk with me, I feel like I have barely seen you in the time I’ve been here.”

Jon laughed openly, though the idea that she cared enough to be upset at their lack of time together touched him deeply. The Starks were wonderful people, but the feeling of belonging had always alluded him in Winterfell. “They’re too busy forcing you and Robb into a room together for more than five minutes.” He could not help the slight question lacing his half-hearted joke.

Her violet eyes darkened, and her mouth hardened almost imperceptibly. He immediately regretted his statement as she glared at the sight ahead of them with unseeing eyes. “So it would seem.” She spoke sharply, her words as biting as the freezing wind surrounding them.

“Do you not like him?” Jon asked hesitantly, knowing she was not one for talking about her feelings when she was not in the right mood.

“I don’t see how it matters. My husband was chosen long before I accepted.” She snapped, before sighing slightly and sitting on the nearby wall. He joined her with some trepidation, but she had already calmed somewhat. “I have no issue with Robb Stark, I just… I thought I would have more _time._”

She didn’t need to explain herself beyond that. As a legal bastard, Jon had many disadvantages in life, but he knew that being able to choose his own bride was not one of them. While Eddard only permitted Robb to take part in an arranged marriage, Jon knew it weighed heavily on the heir to Winterfell as he aged each year, and he knew Daenerys must feel the same way. At least Robb would remain with his family, with his home.

“He’s a good man,” was all he could offer, stroking her arm gently.

“I know he is, it’s all anyone bloody talks about in that damn castle.” Daenerys murmured sullenly. “’Oh Dany, have you seen him with a sword?’, ‘Dany don’t hide away, come talk to your betrothed’, ‘Daenerys he’s so wonderful, you must feel so lucky.’ Am I meant to feel lucky? I feel anything but.”

Sometimes it was hard to remember she was his age; she acted so responsible and in control, much more than either Jon or Robb. Eight-and-ten was not an unusual age to begin a marriage betrothal – in fact, many would consider it very late – but it made it no less terrifying for either party. “He will give you the freedom you need Dany, you won’t be a toy or pretty object to him.” It was odd to not defend Robb as he normally would have, the man was a brother to him – _but she is your family too_, Jon reminded himself, _and she is frightened._ Few of the marriages she had encountered must have been happy, and horror stories were still told of the relationship between her mother and father.

“Yes, I’m sure he will – but it will never be the same.” She gazed at him steadfastly, looking somehow a child and a grown woman at the same time. “He will expect obedience and children, things I could never give anyone, at least not now. I do not resent him, but I am not excited that my life has been decided for me.”

“Just try,” Jon said softly. _It’s not fair of her to ruin their chance of happiness. _“Let him show you he’s not what you think. Just give him a chance.”

“I said before – I have no issue with Lord Robb, and I would probably prefer him to many others.” She said matter-of-factly, but, as he continued to stare at her, she rolled her eyes and twisted a lock of sliver hair around her fingers. “_Fine,_ I will make more of an effort to get to know him.”

A smile, something much rarer than Jon would care to admit, lit his face, and he stood quickly, holding his hand out for you. “Well in that case, would you care to accompany me to the castle, Breaker of Chains?” His grin widened as her eyes darkened with annoyance. She stood without his help and dusted off her dress, mostly obscuring her slight smile from him.

“I detest you sometimes, Jon Snow.”

The trip to the castle was far more light-hearted, and the two arrived in high spirits despite the bitter cold that Jon was certain only he could feel. Upon their arrival, the two were met with shouts of greeting from the three Stark boys and Theon as they practiced archery. Jon raised an eyebrow at Dany as another of Bran’s arrows flew nowhere near the target; though the boy had gotten considerably better, he was still terrible – not that any of them were willing to tell him that.

Little Rickon ran over to greet them, smiling shyly up at Daenerys as she spoke to him with an indulgent smile on her face. Jon looked over her head to meet Robb’s questioning and concerned gaze; when he nodded reassuringly, the older boy’s shoulders slumped with relief and he quickly approached them. Though Dany did not openly acknowledge his presence, she straightened her back ever so lightly, and her fingers quickly smooth down loose strands of hair. _Well, _Jon thought, _any little thing is definitely progress._

He returned Robb’s brief hug and shouted a quick hello to Theon and Bran, who continued to practice as the younger boy grew steadily more frustrated as more and more arrows piled up either side of the target. Rickon was still chatting excitedly to Daenerys about seeing her dragons fly over the castle, and Jon did not miss the way Robb continually glanced at the girl before them. He did not seem eager to speak with her, however, and Jon mentally rolled his eyes before clearing his throat. “Robb, have you seen Ghost?” He smirked slightly as Dany looked at them with renewed interest.

“No..” By contrast, the look Robb was giving him was one of confusion. “He might be in the godswood with Grey Wind, but he likes to sleep this time of day. Ask Arya.” She shrugged slightly, and Daenerys chose this moment to jump in.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your direwolf, my lord.”

“Call me Robb.” He answered immediately. “He doesn’t quite look like one yet, you’re more likely to remember a hyper puppy than anything else.” At her laugh, he grew more confident. “Would you like to meet him?”

“Very much so, Lor- Robb.” Dany quickly fixed her mistake and took his outstretched arm, glancing back at Jon with a slight smile. He grinned back at her, relieved that the plan had work, and turned to Rickon to take over Robb’s teachings. Before he could however, a shout from across the courtyard sounded, freezing his blood.

“We need help! Bran fell!”

**OoOoO**

The rest of that day and the next had been more sombre than Jon had ever remembered, and certainly unexpected during the Royal Family’s arrival. With Bran unresponsive and Catelyn and Sansa at his side, the table of rather empty, and disturbingly quiet. Lord Stark had refused the King’s offer of departing three days earlier than planned, claiming that Robb and Daenerys still needed time to adapt to one another. However, even to Jon it was clear that the Lord of Winterfell longed for any distraction from the tragic state of his son.

Both times Jon had visited him that day had been even worse than he had expected. There was no explanation as to why Bran had fallen from the tower – it had never happened before, and even little Rickon was adamant that it was virtually impossible. Lady Catelyn had not left the boy’s bedside even to eat, and Queen Elia had excused herself part way through the afternoon to console the grieving mother. The rest of the Targaryens were uncharacteristically quiet; even Viserys kept the small comments to a minimum, and Rhaegar and his children had all offered their prayers for Bran’s recovery.

In spite of the looming threat hovering over Bran, Jon could not help but feel selfishly distressed for a very different reason. The Starks had come very close to losing their brother and still could – how was he to tell them that he had chosen to join the Night’s Watch? It would be an impossible conversation to have with any of them, especially Arya and Robb. _You knew this day would come, _he reasoned with himself, but it did not make his decision any easier.

After the uncomfortable dinner had finished, Jon found himself drifting to the castle’s blacksmiths and armoury. The air was even crisper than it had been earlier that day and the harsh wind, while making his eyes water, cleared his foggy mind ever so slightly. However, it could not sharpen his mind like the voice that called out from behind him.

“Jon Snow.”

No one had the faintest clue why Jaime Lannister still walked as a free man, let alone as a member of the Kingsguard. _One would think, _Jon thought as he turned to face the man, _that the King would not want his father’s murderer to protect him._ Yet there the lion himself stood, proud in his disgraced glory, a mocking smirk on his face as Jon reach out a hand for him to shake. “Ser Jaime.”

The older man shook his hand with a strong grip and Jon fought back a wince, his skin turning pink from the tight hold. “Must be nice, I suppose, your family all being together. Well, not quite _all, _but close enough, no?”

Jon bit his tongue against a sharp retort – whether the Kingslayer had been referring to his mother or Bran, he did not want to know. “Indeed, Ser Jaime.” He did not miss the disappointed shadow crossing the older man’s face.

“I was saddened to hear about your cousin, he seems like a good lad.” _Must have been a jibe about Mother after all. _“Do they know if he will be alright?” The sudden concern somehow caught Jon more off-guard than his initial comment.

“The maester and Lady Catelyn are still unsure.” He swallowed down the small lump in his chest. Bran had always been the smartest out of all of them and most eager to join the older boys in fights and trips to the towns. Even the annoying parts of him that gave Jon a migraine more often than not – his never-ending stubborn and inability to accept he couldn’t shoot arrows and _god all that damn climbing _– he missed more than he had expected. It had only been two days, but the lack of his presence was overbearing. To make matters worse, they had been unable to discover what had caused Bran’s fall – or _who. _Arya and Robb steadfastly believed that it had not been an accident, and Jon was inclined to agree with them.

“Snow, are you listening to me?”

“I – What?” His cheeks flushed with heat and he hoped the older man didn’t notice. “I’m sorry, I must have drifted off.

The Kingslayer let out a harsh bark of laughter. “I asked about your cousin’s engagement to the princess – plenty of people are surprised by it.”

“Why’s that?” He asked curiously.

“Aside from the fact that the Targaryens and the Starks hate each other?” His blonde hair gleamed dimly in the going darkness, and his smile became more mocking. “She was expected to marry Aegon or Viserys, and people don’t like a change of plan. Listen, bastard,” He stepped forward sharply and Jon forced himself to ignore the slight, “I’m not here to ask about your bloody brother. Are you still planning on going North?”

Jon’s eyes narrowed, instantly on high alert. “How did you hear about that?” His hand drifted casually to the hilt of his sword, but Ser Jaime did not miss the movement and quickly gripped his own.

“King Rhaegar knows so I do.” He looked around quickly, and Jon tried not to consider what could make the great Jaime Lannister nervous. “I’m not going to persuade you not to go, that’s for the various crying women in your life. Join the _brave and noble men of the Watch_,” he said sarcastically, “and stay away from the south – and Daenerys.”

Jon stared at him in confusion. “Why do I need to stay away from her?”

“Because you love her.”

“No I don’t.” His answer was a reflex and sounded false even to his ears.

“Yes, you do, Snow.” Ser Jaime flashed him a pitying smile – _as if he could ever relate._ “I don’t care enough to lecture you on the dangers of falling in love with family members – especially ones whose brothers have banned incest. Just stay away from the south.”

“Why?” Jon asked quickly. “What’s happening in the south?”

The Kingslayer laughed harshly again, though it sounded more forced this time. “I haven’t got a bloody clue, but everything with two eyes and ears knows something will. Do yourself a favour and stay away.”

Jon stared at him in surprise – of all the thigs he had expected the older man to say, that had not been one of them. “My feelings don’t matter. Why are you telling _me _this?”

“When your mother died, it broke your father.” His voice was even quieter now, and Jon leaned in to listen better. “He had another child and he loves all of them, but Lyanna was all he ever wanted – I’m not sure anything in the Seven Kingdoms could fill the space she left behind. He’s been a shell for the last eighteen years and you’re the last part of her alive. Stay that way, Snow, don’t let love keep you in danger.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He repeated, his voice hardening quickly. “Daenerys will marry Robb and I am joining the Night’s Watch. Nothing will ever come of it.”

“You’re right.” Ser Jaime nodded, though he still looked uneasy. “Go north bastard, and stay away from the games played in the south.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you liked it, please let me know what you think!
> 
> OKAY OKAY GUYS YOU GET TO HAVE YOUR SAY NOW SO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PAY ATTENTION. I have a fixed idea of parts of this story, but it’s occurred to me that one part of the GOT/ASOIAF story can be/not be included. Do you guys want the Northern independence storyline? It won’t be the main storyline but will be prominent, and the outcome of the story will remain the same. Let me know as part of you comment or message me privately, because I know some of you really like this story and I think you should have the chance to give your opinion. Is the North storyline something you want to see, or are you unbothered/bored by it? Let me know!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long, my old computer broke so I’ve had to wait a while to get another one – fortunately, this one is a lot better. So, I asked what you guys wanted and you voted on whether you wanted a Northern independence storyline. I’ve come to my decision and obviously I can’t tell you, but I think I’ve managed to do it in a way that will please as many people as possible – while staying true to what I want for this story. I hope you like this chapter!

Myrcella 

“Mother, why does father never speak of his brother?”

“Your father and Renly have a difficult relationship my love, you know this.” Cersei slowly combed through her hair as they sat on the silk sheets, gently untangling the knots she found.

“No mother.” She winced as a particularly stubborn knot was attended to. “The _other _brother.”

Her mother tensed behind her and the young woman instantly knew she had said something wrong, but to her surprise, Cersei answered the question. “Because he was a traitor, little one, and his name brings about memories that everyone would rather forget.” She plucked a stray curl from Myrcella’s hand and continued to brush her hair.

“What was his name?” She asked curiously – it was rarely mentioned under their roof, and she had forgotten the name that had caused the Seven Kingdoms so much trouble.

“Robert – we were supposed to marry.” Cersei’s tone left little room for further questions on the matter.

They sat in silence for a few minutes more, before Myrcella decided to push her luck just a little bit further. “Mother, why must I marry the prince?”

“Because you will be the Queen, little one,” Cersei sighed, and even Myrcella could hear the subtle envy that laced her words. “He will buy you the most beautiful things in the Seven Kingdoms and give you wonderful children. You will want for nothing.”

“No, Mother, that’s not what I mean at all.” She turned around to face the older woman, unwilling to let her questions go, though she avoided eye contact with her. “Why me? There are many others in the Seven Kingdoms who would make just as good a wife and Queen.” It made little sense to her why she would be chosen to marry a man she had yet to learn anything about and had met only once. The thought was more than slightly daunting – at six-and ten, it would not be unusual for her to be married, and with child, very quickly.

“You had better not tell him that,” Cersei snapped. “King Rhaegar has chosen you to wed Prince Aegon, and the two of you will make a beautiful pair.” She smiled fondly at her daughter, causing the girl to sigh internally. While an undoubtedly loving mother, it was difficult even for those closest to her to understand Cersei’s extreme mood shifts.

“Do you think I might ever grow to love him?” Mrycella asked quietly, daring to look back into her mother’s face.

Her smile stiffened slightly, but her face remained otherwise unchanged. “I hope that you do not, little one. Love is dangerous for women – better not to love at all than to love in excess.”

“But,” the little girl fumbled for her words, her forehead creased in confusion, “do you not love Father?”

Cersei’s face hardened almost imperceptibly, and she looked around the room for a moment to check the two were alone. “No, I don’t.”

“What about Grandfather, or Uncle Jaime?” She almost thought to mention her uncle Tyrion, before remembering the loathsome look that always haunted her mother’s eyes when she was in the presence of her youngest brother.

“I love you and your brothers, that is all the love I need.” She leant forward and touched her daughter’s soft cheek, staring into her eyes. “You have the kindest heart I have ever come across, my angel, but it will lead you to great sorrow. If you can, love only your children – a mother has no choice in that matter.”

“Mother, may I be excused?” She blurted, only realising after she had spoken how impolite her words had been. Luckily, her lady mother only smiled and nodded, tucking the silver hairbrush back into the ornate matching box it was stored in – a nameday gift for Myrcella by a distant family relative who had not wanted to travel to visit her.

She returned the smile warmly and left the room quickly, hurrying past servants who stared at her as she passed, no doubt hoping for news that would liven up the boring tasks of the day. Her chambers weren’t far, and she reached them quickly, almost throwing herself against the door in her haste. She rushed inside and immediately sat at her desk. Her white feather quill tickled her chin as she scribbled. Her mother’s words echoed around her mind, reminding her that, no matter the rush, a proper lady always must take her time and be dignified. Once finished, she reread her letter and smiled broadly, confident that the receiver would answer all of her questions.

She left her rooms as quickly as she came, and pulled a servant girl’s arm as she walked past. The girl gasped and pulled her arm away, before realising who had pulled her and stammering out an apology. Mrycella simply held up a hand, before producing the letter and pressing it into the girl’s hands.

“Make sure my uncle Jaime receives this.”

**OoOoO**

Visenya

The letter was dated over a week previously, the seal ripped open as if in disgust.

_“My darling, it has been eight-and-ten years since I received your last letter and murmurs reach my ears that you have grown more beautiful each day. My heart has not felt complete without you and I pray that my letters find you well. You have beautiful children, I hear - I would love to meet them one day, I am sure they have grown up to be as kind as loving as you are._

_Have you forgotten me? I believed the time we spent together was precious, but I fear that you no longer feel the same and with every unanswered letter I write to you I begin to lose hope. You once told me that we would run to the furthest corners of the world. You spoke of longing to travel East to the Bay of Dragons - you always did hate the idea of slaves, I’m sure you are glad that Princess Daenerys has made her changes - or West to discover the unknown. Yet you sit as though you are nothing more than a beautiful ornament. I hear that many have never heard you speak, and when I remember the girl who would tell me stories until the sun rose in the east I cannot imagine you have been happy since we last met. Do you open my letters, or do you simply discard them as a secret never to be given a second thought to?_

_He does not value you, my love, of this I am certain you must know. You are someone to be cherished and adored far more than he could possibly do so. Every man in the Seven Kingdoms, as well as your own place of birth, could tell you that you should never have agreed to marry him, not when his heart lay with another. You were so willing to love me all those years ago, it was clear that he had never valued you. Do you truly believe that you never could again?_

_Please write to me again my love, even only once._

“Princess Visenya!” The little girl started, and the paper tore slightly in her trembling hands as the servant girl opened the door. “You are meant to be preparing your clothes for travelling back to Kings Landing, we leave tomorrow!” Anya gazed around the elaborate room, one of the grandest of any of the Stark guestrooms - and there were many.

“I’m sorry Anya,” Visenya apologised earnestly, folding the paper. The maiden’s eyes focused on it and a frown came over her face.

“Princess, what is that?”

“Nothing!” She shook her silver hair violently and pushed the paper into the small pocket of her dress. Ignoring the curious stare from the Anya, she kept her eyes to the floor and quickly left her brother’s room.

**OoOoO**

Tyrion

“Ned Stark is not a good choice for Hand of the King.”

After at least twenty minutes of silence, Tyrion had rather thought that Prince Oberyn had fallen asleep – he would not have been the first man to do so within a brothel’s walls. Since that was not the case, he shook himself from a slight, wine-induced drowsiness and considered his words carefully. “Many share your fears. They say he will attempt to finish the work that Robert began, so to speak.”

To his surprise, the Prince snorted a harsh laugh, his handsome face almost mocking. “I don’t mean _dangerous_, Lannister. He does not have the heart for it.” He took another sip of wine, his eyes not unmoving from Tyrion’s face. “He is too soft for the work.” The dwarf’s face must have presented some disagreement on his face and Oberyn’s eyebrows raised, as if preparing for an argument. “The King is a good one, yet he dislikes him because of the business with his sister.”

“She died, Prince Oberyn.” Tyrion chided gently.

“And my sister was humiliated, all for the sake of a bastard he keeps in the North,” the handsome man snapped. “Yet she holds up her chin and loves him still, while Ned Stark wallows and sulks.”

Tyrion was silent for a moment. “The Royal Family will return soon,” he offered feebly. “I hear the North has had an… interesting time adapting to them all, particularly Princess Daenerys’ dragons.”

“I often wonder what they make of the Dragon Queen in the rest of Westeros.” Oberyn mused, leaning backwards in his chair. Tyrion smiled internally at the tantrum his father would undoubtably be having if one of his children ever sat in the way the prince was at that moment. _At least he is no longer speaking of the Stark girl._

“Well, for a start, we don’t call her the Dragon _Queen._”

“You should.” Oberyn retorted, not even bothering to keep his voice down – _though, _Tyrion supposed, _people in brothels were likely paying little mind to conversations regarding the Royal Family. _“I visited Meereen recently and changes she has made are –“ he paused for a moment, deep in thought “ – unlike anything I have seen before. Not a slave in sight in any of cities.”

“She does not rule there.” Tyrion replied evenly, aware of the dangerous waters their words had ventured into. His statement received a snort of disagreement from the man sitting opposite him. “There are men in the former slave cities who keep order and ensure slavery does not re-emerge. She liberated them, but the princess is not their queen.”

“You truly believe that?” Oberyn raised an eyebrow sceptically, and Tyrion forced himself not to take offence at his condescending tone. “You have not seen her as others have, Lannister, you have not seen the way the former slaves worship her. She is more than a queen to them – she is some kind of god.”

“Do not let the Seven hear you say such things.” Tyrion warned. He thought deeply for a moment, his brow creased as he considered the youngest pure-blooded Targaryen. It was undoubtable that she was unlike anything seen since before any of them had been born; blessed with the kind heart that the Mother had gifted to her brother and mother before her, she also possessed a rare fire within her, a strength and passion – perhaps even rage – simmering beneath her skin. She would certainly be the subject of many legends once she had passed, in the way many of her ancestors were.

“Whoever marries her will have a very difficult time if they attempt to control her.” The prince murmured.

“One must assume they will not try, if that is the case.” Tyrion inclined his head gently towards Oberyn; it was common knowledge that women in Dorne had much more freedom than those in any other part of Westeros, and many credited Queen Elia for the relaxed way in which Rhaegar had allowed Daenerys to live.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” In contrast to his companion, a slight shadow crossed the prince’s face and his mouth became a thin line of disapproval. “Some of these families live too East to know the truth. The whole of Dorne has heard whispers from across the Narrow Sea, and they have formed their own opinion on the Mother of Dragons.”

_Mother of Dragons. _Tyrion took a careful mouthful of wine as he mulled over the other man’s words. It was sweeter than he was used to during conversations such as these – diplomatic issues, such as the princess, were often confined to the council chamber, and the sweetness of his lips served as a reminder to choose his words cautiously. “And what do they say of Daenerys Targaryen in Dorne?” Oberyn flashed him a dangerous smile and leant forward.

“They say she is Aegon the Conqueror, reborn in fire and blood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Feel like it’s pretty obvious, but for anyone who hasn’t realised: the letter Myrcella sends and the letter that Visenya finds are complete separate. Also, I know it’s strange that Cersei is married to Stannis in this, but obviously Robert had to be dead and I really wanted the three children in this story – besides, it’s not really a spoiler to tell you Jaime’s the father of them, is it?
> 
> For the sake of honesty, I’m just going to be honest and say that these are things that can’t really have their own chapters but are kind of important for background so need to be put in somehow. Shit chapter? Maybe, and surprising difficult to write, but that’s life. Hopefully the next update will take less time, unless there’s an apocalypse soon – which, let’s face it, is on the cards.


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